


A Predator at Rest

by williamcain



Series: Workaday 40K [1]
Category: Warhammer 40.000
Genre: AU, Siblings, Sleep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-24
Updated: 2019-06-24
Packaged: 2020-05-18 22:24:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,181
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19343878
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/williamcain/pseuds/williamcain
Summary: Magnus stumbles upon Russ in a compromised position. Strange Feels result.





	A Predator at Rest

"Come take your damned books."

It was, as such things went, a surprisingly thoughtful message from the Wolf King. The Vlka Fenryka were not ones to leave much standing, by all accounts. Yet Russ had taken the time to send the message to Magnus that a library his sons had discovered was both still standing and available for the Crimson King to acquire. 

This begged its own question however.

"Russ, while I appreciate you not burning the materials within, and your thoughtfulness to contact me, why would I have any interest in a random library your legion happened to find?"

The flickering holo of his brother scattered as Russ moved in it. When the image resolved, He was holding a book, cover toward the transmitting link's visual input. What he saw there made Magnus' breath hitch for a half-moment in his throat.

_Incohate and Incarnate._

Yet, he couldn't let Russ see just how thrilling those three little words were. "I see. An excellent find, and you were right to call for me. I didn't think you remembered that I was-"

"Hjolda, you can blather. Come get your damned books, brother. I have a compliance to finish." And the link terminated. 

"Spiteful dog..." Magnus glared at the holo display, then sighed and rubbed at his forehead. No sense being angry, his brother was not worth it. _Even if he is astonishingly good at frustrating me._

*****

None of the wolves could tell him where Russ was.

The Astartes of the VI viewed his own warriors and their requests with suspicion and contempt. They weren't saying the word, but it could be heard on the aether of their thoughts, the Thousand Sons' tutelaries whispering it into their minds. 

_Maleficarum_

Ignorant savages, the lot of them. As if their own rattling bones and called lightning weren't the very same warpstuff.

But he would endure. This befit a warrior of the new ways. He would rise above all their scorn and be the better man. Particularly after Russ had shared what he'd found with Magnus. 

_But why HAD he?_

Tiring of the endless questions, the minutiae of asking, he simply relaxed one of his mental guards, and drew in the knowledge he sought from the field of thoughts floating through the many, MANY VI legion astartes around him.

And then he had it. They didn't know where Russ was. They weren't being simply stubborn, they just didn't want to admit they'd... **misplaced** their king!

He had to stifle a great, booming laugh from his red lips. 

However, while none of them consciously knew, he had picked up enough details...past encounters, predicted movements, quick sightings. He let his mind seek a bit...there. The grim, hard presence of the Wolf King.

Halfway across the city. Which was no distance at all. 

"My sons, continue to catalogue the library. I must speak with my brother. A cold, Fenrisian welcome we may have received, but there is no need for us to disregard decorum." Well, perhaps a little. He drew his energy about him, and teleported with a rush of energy and a clap of displaced air. Let them mumble about THAT for a while.

*****

He emerged in the stronghold he'd sensed his brother was inhabiting for the moment. He let his mind reach out, and caught that same surly, snarl of a presence. Leman, tightly wound, coiled, vicious. Like the knotworks in the armored leather his wolves wore, the Wolf King was a maddening, unending tangle of impulses. Being around him made Magnus' head ache all the more, but he would endure. 

Still...why hadn't Russ reacted? Surely he'd have heard the arrival of his brother. Warpwork was not always quiet work, and his arrival had stirred the papers and furniture with its force. Perhaps he even felt a touch disappointed that Russ hadn't been in here to be irritated at his arrival. 

Sighing, he stalked upstairs, letting his mind feel out. That was curious...the Executioner had never felt so...still before. Feeling something was strange, wrong even, Magnus quickened his pace, and pushed the door he found at the end of the hallway open. There, Russ was...had he been slain, injured? What was he doing? Magnus stepped closer...then blinked at the sound he heard.

Leman was snoring. It wasn't the chainsword growl one would have expected, but a deep, heavy sussuration with a slight rasp at the end. 

Russ was snoring.

The wolf was sleeping.

Magnus marvelled at the sight. Russ sat on what looked like a massive altar. He was leant forward, eyes closed, long rust-and-blonde hair falling forward to cover his face from the sides, stirring in the great gusts of breath from the nose and mouth. 

It was so...wrong to see. Fundamentally incorrect, as if a Changing spirit had become clockwork and predictable. 

Always when he'd seen Russ, he'd seen that tension in him. Coiled muscles ready to move into any quarter where he saw threat, or prey. Always the steady posturing, the loping movement of a perfect predator rather than a superhuman general of arms. Now, he looked...peaceful was the wrong word. Even in sleep he exuded a kind of tension, but it was the tension of a canine wound up tight against the cold. It wasn't the sleep of the restful. He'd seen the Lion sleeping once, when recovering from a wound delivered by a Plasma Cannon discharging directly into his chest. The Lion had slept with perfect, boneless relaxation, as if given over solely to the idea of rest. 

Russ rested like a creature hiding from the world. 

"...brother?" Magnus found himself asking, before thinking better of it. What was the saying about sleeping dogs-

Russ was awake. His head had slipped upward, and he was meeting Magnus' eye. 

"...the book's over there." He gestured with a gauntleted hand. The canine grace, the tension under hard control, was back. That vulnerable relaxation seemed gone. His expression, inasmuch as Magnus could ever read Russ' moods, said it would never be seen again.

"Yes, of course. Thank you for your restraint, brother."

The cold gaze just continued looking at him. Blue eyes...no, gold-rimmed blue, Magnus realized. Just at the edge, barely a milimeter thick, a gold band about the blue cores of the irises. How had he not seen that? 

"How...has the compliance fared, brother?" Russ had gone to the trouble of holding a book for him, after all. He could be magnanimous in turn. 

"You know already. Why ask that question?"

"As opposed to?"

Russ sighed, and pushed upright. "Forget it. Secure your books, and have your Legion on their way." He began to pace, unshipping his grim, vicious bolter from its sling across his back. 

Then, as he strode down the stairs. "Unless your sons wouldn't mind getting their blood up, that is. The northern continent still stands."

Magnus stood a few moments longer, looking down at the book in his hands. "...yes brother. I think we could do with a bit of exercise."

And perhaps after, he might ask Russ another question.


End file.
